When Nick wakes in the morning, his arm is wrapped around Madison's waist, keeping her pressed against him, one hand settled against the bone of her hip. They're tangled up in each other, in a way that makes his head cloudy and a burning heat flare up in the pits of his stomach. Beside him, she is still sleeping soundly, pressed up against his chest, her leg thrown over his.

As Nick shifts languidly, his body aching, Madison lets out a soft moan of protest and curls up into him. She's so tiny she fits against him like a glove and he can't keep himself from staring at her, his lips parting.

He's never seen her look undone, unbound.

Madison is always beautiful but in sleep, that icy mask falls away, and she looks vulnerable, almost sweet. Her hair falls around her shoulders, tickling his face, but her lips are still red and bruised from last night. She looks like she's been kissed senseless and something heated coils within his stomach at the sight.

He allows himself a full minute to relish this feeling, to reach out and keep it imprinted in his memory, counting down the seconds before Nick gently and very reluctantly untangles himself from Madison.

She wakes in the same instant, her eyes flying open before Madison stares around herself, her lips parting. When she looks at him, Madison lets out a shocked groan.

"Of all people..." she murmurs, but he doesn't miss the way her eyes linger too long on his bare chest.

"You're welcome," Nick tells her flippantly.

There's something in the way she is automatically fixing her hair and realising that she is only wearing a bra that makes his throat thicken. Madison simply reaches for his shirt to pull it over her head and his mouth goes completely dry. She straightens the shirt, wrinkling her nose up with some distaste.

"How long ago did you wash this?" Madison asks.

Just like that, the languid, tangible air between them is broken and they're back.

"You know what, I think I picked that shirt up from the bins of the city," he tells her. "Yup, just fished it out."

"I would expect nothing less," she bites back, but she makes no move to take off the shirt. "What time is it?"

It's barely past seven, though the cool light of a golden dawn trickles into his room and casts against her face. Madison is still tangled in his sheets and Nick knows that her expensive, perfume smell will be wrapped up within them. He doesn't want to know why the mere thought of that makes his stomach clench, stealing his breath away.

Madison is already demanding things of him, breakfast and toiletries and things.

"Oh, and a ride home. You're not dropping me off to school," she adds, running her fingers through her dishevelled hair and hissing in annoyance. "I'll not take anything less than a Mercedes."

"Real inconspicuous," Nick tells her sarcastically. "Why don't you just make a banner, tell everyone we slept together?"

Her eyes darken.

"If you tell anyone –,"

"Relax, I have standards, too!" he says quickly, and Madison throws a dark scowl towards him. "But I can't drive a car."

Madison stills. "I'm not walking home in Jimmy Choo's," she tells him.

Nick lets a smile curl his lips. "I said I couldn't drive a car," he tells her. "Didn't say anything about driving a motorbike."

Her horrified face is everything.

*

He insists on breakfast, to Madison's annoyance, and bustles about in the kitchen hungrily as Madison glares at him.

The air between them is tinged with a strange feeling but it's not entirely uncomfortable. Nick chances a glance back to Madison, who is critically examining the hickeys against her neck in the mirror. Her fingers are light and cool against her bare skin and something warm and delicious comes up inside him at the sight, his mouth going dry, but all she says is, "Nick you animal. I hate wearing turtlenecks."

Nick rolls his eyes, but he doesn't tell her about his own, the violet blooming across his neck like the unfurling petals of a flower. His gaze falls on the counter where he had lifted Madison just yesterday, his fingerprints still pressed against her thighs, the burn lingering against his hands. He turns his head and Madison meets his gaze, her eyes smouldering.

"I just fixed my lipstick," she tells him, before he can ask.

He catches himself just as quickly.

"I was going to ask if you wanted one of my breakfast muffins," Nick tells her, as Madison arches an eyebrow dryly. "Get your head out of the gutter, Madison."

Nick watches as her lips quirk a little, as she seats herself demurely at the dining table, and he finds that he is just fascinated with the way that Madison does anything. There's a certain kind of elegance and grace to her movements and he realises that the only time he has ever seen her lose her composure is when he kissed her senseless and made her moan his name into the bare skin of his shoulder repeatedly. Nick offers Madison the muffin, but she shakes her head.

"I'm on a diet," Madison tells him firmly.

"You're drinking water." Nick rolls his eyes. "Look, I baked it. You could at least taste it for me, tell me if it's any good?"

Madison narrows her eyes at him.

"You're lying," she says, as her gaze falls to the chocolate muffins, the raspberry cookies, and the blueberry-soaked crepes on the table. Nick sees the faintest flicker of hunger flash through her eyes. "You can't have baked this all."

Nick is affronted.

"Yes, I did," he insists, and he's not lying to her. He loves to bake. Something within him realises that Madison is the first person to whom he has admitted this. "Baking is an art."

"I've seen your art, Nick," Madison tells him. "You told Mrs Wilson that dried pasta frames are your speciality."

They both chuckle together, recalling the memory as Nick's argument had made Mrs Wilson grow redder and redder with fury. Nick shakes his head.

"Ah, detention was worth it, that day," he says fondly. "I'm not pulling your leg, Madison, I swear. I'm like that High School Musical baking guy. I'm a man of many talents."

Madison laughs before she can stop herself, and Nick is startled to realise it's a genuine laugh. He's even more startled to realise that he'd like to hear it again. Her gaze lingers on the muffin and he can see that she is tempted. Nick holds his breath, not daring to say anything. Madison reaches for the muffin he gives her and lifts her head.

"Only a little bit," she says to him. "Just to taste." He's triumphant until Madison continues. "In return, you let me see what you wrote for the History essay."

"I'm not having you copy my hard work," he tells her. "I put a lot of work into not doing it."

Madison rolls her eyes.

"You can't lie to me," she tells him. "I saw your essay in your room."

"I'm actually offended," Nick says. "The only thing you were supposed to be focused on was me."

"Well, you're just going to have to rectify that, aren't you?" Madison tilts her head and meets his gaze squarely.

Nick is startled.

"I thought..." he begins, before he catches himself, the same familiar heat burning within his stomach. She's utterly beautiful as she stares at him, he thinks dazedly, his lips parting. Nick clears his throat quickly. "I thought it was a one-off thing."

Madison blinks, looking uncomfortable.

She has pieces of the muffin in her fingers, lingering still, and Nick suddenly wishes that he hadn't said anything at all. She is flushing hotly and when she speaks, her voice is light.

"Yeah," she says quickly, agreeing. "We just – we had to get it out of our system."

The air between them grows awkward.

Nick suddenly really hates that he said anything at all, hates that he might have mucked it all up with his stupidity.

Madison's gaze drops to the muffin within her fingers and Nick watches, with a sinking heart, as she tentatively puts it on to the plate before her, without having put a single piece in her mouth. She reaches for the glass of water instead and Nick turns away, cursing himself.

"Take me home," Madison orders him, and though she tries to sound as cutting as she usually does, her voice falters a little.

It's clear that she's trying to rectify the current awkwardness and leave as fast as she can, Nick thinks to himself. He nods quickly and scrambles to grab his keys, thinking, in the back of his mind, that he must be just like all of her boyfriends, running to do her will. But Nick knows he's the only one to have made her scream his name like she did last night, and the thought makes him cheer up as he and Madison go outside.

Plus he's pretty sure that Madison's old boyfriends probably had Bentleys and Mercedes.

He's got his beautiful beat-up, old motorbike.

"It's a deathtrap," Madison says faintly.

"You'll be fine," Nick tells her. "You just have to hold on to me tight. I seem to recall you doing that a lot last night." She scowls at him. "Just don't scream my name. I have a reputation to maintain."

He laughs wickedly when Madison throws her darkest glare towards him. But Nick realises that she is genuinely nervous when he spots that her fingers are trembling. He softens slightly and helps Madison manoeuvre herself on his bike, swallowing thickly when she wraps her arms around him tightly. Madison leans against him and Nick is almost overwhelmed by her, as he was last night, heat flaring up within his stomach.

"If you kill us," Madison tells him, promptly killing the moment, "I'll kill you."

"You can't kill me," Nick says as he revs his bike.

"Oh, really?"

"I'm too much of a good kisser."

He's laughing as Madison presses her face into his back, when the motorbike shoots off and they move through the streets. The touch of the sun is soft against Redwood, soaking the sleepy city in a pale gold morning light, and Nick is glad that there is barely any traffic as Madison navigates him to her house. They reach her place in plenty of time and as soon as the motorbike stops, Madison quickly gets off, catching her breath.

Nick is about to make a joke when he sees that she's genuinely anxious, her brows furrowed together. He gets off of his bike and reaches for her shaking fingers, his hands completely covering her tiny fingers, but he doesn't say anything, because he knows that Madison doesn't appreciate sympathy. Instead, he simply waits until she stops shaking before letting go but Madison tightens her grip suddenly, refusing to let him go.

Of course, Nick is stronger than Madison and can probably take his hands off without breaking a sweat, plus she barely has any strength to speak of. Even so, Nick lets her hold his hand tightly, as she breathes out, staring at her with his lips parting.

Madison lifts her head up to meet his gaze.

"So that's it," she tells him, in a tone of finality but there's something like uncertainty in her eyes.

"Yeah," Nick says. "That's it. We just had to get it out of our system, right?"

"Yeah."

They're still staring at each other and then, as their hands break apart, they turn away from each other.

Nick feels his heart sink a little, to his confusion.

*